“We do not care,” the Ghoul replied, and before I could question the “we” part, the entire left side of its body stretched and sort of plopped out another Ghoul.
“What in the actual wide world of fu—?” I snapped my mouth shut as another popped out of the right side of its body.
“I think they left the replicating thing out of the textbooks,” Dez commented.
“You think?”
The one to the right of the main Ghoul went right at Dez. He was fast, spinning out of its grip. The other two came toward me.
I had my iron daggers on me still, but my grace was pushing at me. I wanted to use it. I’d moved past the idea of only using the grace in a worst-case scenario, having realized what I’d been taught and trained had been far more of a hindrance than my eyes.
But the problem with that was I didn’t have a bonded Protector any longer. I couldn’t pull strength to avoid the weakness that followed after using my grace. My nose would most likely bleed, possibly drawing more demons my direction even though it hadn’t the night before.
But not using my grace right now was okay.
I was more than happy to get stabby.
Pushing the grace down, I unsheathed my daggers. Adrenaline kicked my senses alive as the Ghouls charged me. Anticipation licked through me, my muscles tensing. I knew to keep a distance between us so they didn’t end up outside my constricted line of vision, and I waited until the last possible moment and then spun around, kicking out. My sneaker caught the Ghoul in a very unmentionable place. It shrieked, doubling over as I popped back up.
The other Ghoul moved disturbingly fast, reaching for me with hands the size of my head. I dipped under its arm and whirled, slamming the dagger into the center of the Ghoul’s back, right where the heart would be. Jerking the iron out, I waited for the burst of flames signaling its demise.
The Ghoul turned around and opened its mouth, roaring straight in my face.
“Whoa.” My eyes watered. “Your breath...”
“The head!” Dez shouted, landing behind a Ghoul, and wrapped one arm around its neck. “You got to separate its head from the body.”
My lip curled. “Ugh. Gross.”
The Ghoul in front of me popped out another Ghoul, and I groaned. “Oh, come on.”
As Dez jammed his clawed hands into the side of the Ghoul’s throat, I looked around. Spotting the ledge of the fountain behind the Ghoul, I shot forward.
Ghoul Number 3 had recovered from my low blow—sort of—and shuffled at me. I hit the ground, kicking out and sweeping its legs out from underneath it. The Ghoul went down hard as I shot up and ran. Jumping on the four-foot ledge, I spun around.
“Oh my God!” I shouted, pointing toward the entrance. “Look! So much tasty flesh!”
The stupid Ghoul in front of me turned in the direction I pointed. Flames erupted from Dez’s Ghoul and the smell of a busted sewer line hit me as I launched off the ledge. Landing on the back of the Ghoul, I wrapped my arm around its neck as its arms started pinwheeling. A meaty fist hit the side of my head, but I held on, shoving the dagger into the side of its throat, just under my arm.
Rotten blood gushed out as I pushed in, dragging the dagger across its neck while it thrashed. The dagger hit the spinal cord, and boy, did that take all the arm muscle I barely had. As it wheeled around, I saw Ghoul Number 4 rushing Dez like a linebacker.
The second I felt the head go loose, I used my knees and spring-boarded off the ghoul. I landed a few feet away as the body in front of me burst into flame—
“Eek!” The head I held caught fire. I tossed it away from me, shuddering.
A heavy hand landed on the scruff of my neck, and for the second time in two days, I was lifted into the air. The only difference this time was that I wasn’t bedazzled by who was holding me.
Just really grossed out.
The air in front of me started to warp, and my heart dropped. Oh, Hell, no—it was not going to creepy magic pop me out of here.
Reaching back with one hand, I gripped the arm that held me, pulling my legs up toward my chest and then swinging them out and back. I slammed my feet into the midsection of the Ghoul, breaking its hold.
I fell, twisting at the last moment to land on my hip. That poor bone had just about had it. The pain in my hips slowed me down as I rolled onto my back, groaning.
When this was all over, I was going to be in the record books as one of the youngest people ever to need a hip replacement.
Before I could even get onto my feet, the Ghoul appeared in my line of vision. Pushing back on my elbows, I kicked out. The Ghoul caught my ankle.
“Dammit!” Sitting, I started to swing on the arm with the dagger as he pulled me toward him. The air charged with electricity once more.
This Ghoul wasn’t as dumb. He saw the move coming, and promptly lifted my entire body into the air. He shook me like a rattle. My grace sparked to life once more, and this time I didn’t stop it. If I did, this punk was going to take me through some portal, and I was sure wherever it ended was where I didn’t want to be. The corners of my vision turned white—
Without warning, the Ghoul let go and I dropped to the ground like a sack of lumpy potatoes. Landing first on my shoulder and then my ribs, I grunted. At least I hadn’t dropped my daggers. So, win?
I was also going to need rib replacement if that existed. The grace retracted as I planted my hand in the grass and started to push up.
Something rolled past me. Something bullet-shaped and white. It smacked into the ledge of the fountain.
It was a Ghoul head.
Dumbly, I watched it catch fire as I let out of a tired breath.
“Thanks, Dez,” I said, this close to lying down and taking a breather.
“That wasn’t me,” Dez replied, his voice barely above a whisper.
The corners of my lips turned down as I stared at the scorched cement of the ledge. The smell of an overused Porta-Potty receded, and a different scent washed over me—a fresher, crisp scent.
Wintermint.
My heart stuttered.
Slowly, I rolled to my back and onto my other side, looking up. The first thing I saw was bare feet. Somehow they were clean. I had no idea why I noticed that, but I had. How were his feet still clean? Had he just been flying around this whole time? My gaze lifted, and as close as he was now, I realized that the pants were the same kind of linen that the Throne had worn, a linen that looked incredibly well tailored. I kept looking up. The stomach and chest were still bare. Then I saw wings, gloriously white wings streaked with grace, spread wide and blocking out everything beyond them.
Zayne stood above, staring down at me with eyes that were too blue to be real, too cold to be his.